Elrond Peredhil
by Bagginshire
Summary: Elrond and Elros are young elves in Maglor's house, trying to find their place in the world. The story follows them throughout their journey, exploring why Elrond might have chosen to remain an elf while Elros chose to be a man. (In progress)


_**Elrond**_ _**Peredhil**_

_Chapter One_- _Nightmares & Light_

Elrond tossed in bed, restless. He was only nine years old but already dark dreams troubled his sleep.

In his dream he sat upon a massive black horse, gazing around at the landscape of hills and valleys. It was tinged with a darkness that seemed to be spreading from him. Everywhere he went, the darkness followed like black tendrils, ever reaching, bringing rot and destruction in its wake. His mind was empty, his being meaningless other than to bring despair to all that met him.

He sat straight up in bed, gasping and sweating. He stood up and made his way across the grand corridor to his father's chambers. He approached Maglor's bed slowly, unsure if he should wake him, but then crawled in next to him and curled into his back, breathing in the scent of his robes and long, flowing hair. Maglor muttered a few words of comfort and they both fell back asleep.

The next day his twin brother teased him for being a child.

"You're too old to be cuddling with daddy, Elrond. You need to grow up and sleep on your own."

"You know I have nightmares, Elros."

"Yet you won't tell me what about. Come, let's go exploring."

The house of Maglor lay in the hills of Maedhros, a land covered in grass, flowers, and little scuttling animals. The air was fresh and seemed to always carry the sound of music, for Maglor was not only a great elven lord but also an esteemed musician famous for his voice and harp playing

As Elrond and Elros were playing along the paths entwining the hills, they espied a company of elves on horseback approaching from the southwest. The youngsters ran down the path to meet them, hailing their greetings.

"Ho! What house comes?" Elros called.

A herald answered, "The great house of Galadriel and Celeborn of Doriath!"

Elrond gasped. He had never met the Lady of Light before, only heard stories of her wonder and enchantment. He ran ahead to see Maglor before the procession arrived at the house.

"Father! Father! Galadriel comes!"

"Yes, child," he said kindly, gazing down at him. "I am aware. Where is your rascal of a brother?"

"Walking along with the visitors… Will you play them a welcome song?"

Maglor laughed at the boy's eagerness. "I'm sure the time will come." He patted Elrond's head and went out to the front entrance to await his guests.

Maglor was unsettled by Elrond's nightmares. He always seemed like such a happy and outgoing child. He suspected Elrond was scared of himself, for he had the potential to become mighty in word and in power, like unto his forefathers. He was descended from both Elwë and Finwë after all. And his mother Elwing held a silmaril.

Maglor flinched, unwilling to think on the subject. He and his brothers had taken an oath to recover their father's silmarils and it had brought war and death to all involved. It was through the attacking of Avernien to attain Elwing's silmaril that he and Maedhros had found the infant twins lost in the woods, playing behind a waterfall. Maglor brought them into his care, and since had grown quite fond of them. Surely that was a great blessing.

Or perhaps Elrond's nightmares were because he was still frightened of his kidnappers. Maybe he still missed his parents. Maybe Maglor was the dark rider. But then why would Elrond come crawling to him in the night? Maglor knew they weren't his, but yet….

He stirred from his reverie, sensing the party coming closer, and sure enough, here they came, with their banners and their flags, their elegant weapons and elaborate armor. Galadriel rode in front, more elegant than them all.

"Welcome Galadriel daughter of Finarfin, and Celeborn of Doriath." He bowed, sweeping low to the ground.

The party dismounted and the horses were led away to the stables by Maglor's servants.

"We are honored to be in the house of Maglor, son of Feanor. We await the guidance of your council," Celeborn said stiffly, for Fingol's people did not much get along with the sons of Feanor.

At that time Elros ran up from amidst the group and joined his father. Seeing this, Elrond came out from his hiding place just within the doors and openly stared at Galadriel. She turned her head to him and he looked away, embarrassed.

"Greetings Elrond and Elros, sons of Eärendil," she said gently, then peered at Elrond and tilted her head as if she were pondering. "I perceive that you are frightened, but there is no need, for you will grow into a kind and generous lord of elves, even when all else seems against you."

Elrond smiled up at her, beaming. He was glad that he could receive the gift of her foresight, and it did much to quiet the fears that grew in his heart. He knew that such a lady of beauty he would never see again. She was clothed in a flowing white gown with flowers embroidered into the fabric, a sheer train dragging behind her. Her hair was golden, her figure slim and her limbs graceful; her whole being seemed to radiate light.

"Come, cast off your armor, and eat," Maglor said grandly, gesturing at Celeborn's company to enter the house.

Dinner that evening was a grand occasion, for Galadriel and Celeborn had not been in the house for many years, and though relationships were tense the house of Maglor was still one of opulence and nobility. There was a vast variety of foods: salads and roasted meats, candied fruits and puddings, boiled potatoes and seasoned fish. Harp players and singers spread their music throughout the chamber, and occasionally Maglor could be heard above the rest, singing in his great voice ballads of Valinor and the Maiar.

The next day a council was held to discuss the matter of which the company had come. It was feared that Morgoth was again growing strong, for a great number of orcs had been coming down from the gap between the mountains, ransacking villages and killing livestock. It was inquired whether Maglor would join them in defense of Beleriand, and whether his brother Maedhros would join as well.

"We need your aid. Are you with us?" Galadriel inquired.

"You know that I am. As for my brother, I cannot say."

Celeborn leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. "So, you are loyal to us after all? We were not so sure after what you did in Doriath and Arvernian, slaying your own kind. No, all you care about is your precious jewels," said Celeborn.

"We had no choice," Maglor paused, and then continued, "I am surprised you are asking for our help. What of your alliances?"

"We wish to strengthen our bond with the remaining sons of Feanor, in hope that future ruin may be avoided. If you will indeed fight for us, then prepare your army and march down with us to defend our land," Galadriel answered.

"You are forgiving indeed," Maglor said, curious. "Consider it done. Our army will fight."

"And find your wretched brother, please," Celeborn sighed.

Maglor smiled. "I will send a messenger to Amon Ereb."


End file.
